


Skating on Thin Ice

by SatyrSyd37



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Domestic Fluff, Doting Parents Victor and Yuuri, Drama, Established Relationship, Family Fluff, Featuring, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kinda, M/M, Minor Character Death, Other, Teen Angst, between victuuri, ish, on Yuri Plisetsky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-09-02 15:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8672806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatyrSyd37/pseuds/SatyrSyd37
Summary: When Yuri Plisetsky needs somewhere to stay while 'figuring stuff out' after loosing the Grand Prix, Victor and Yuuri are more than happy to offer him a place in Hasetsu. But trying to get back on his feet while Hasetsu is in chaos may not be so easy after all. 
  Shit, I should have just stayed in Russia.





	1. Icing on the Cake

**Author's Note:**

> i've been meaning to write a yoi fic ever since I saw the first episode, but I haven't had inspiration (or time) until now, so here! have this! 
> 
> i'm not sure how long it'll be, maybe like 3 or 4 chapters, and i'm not sure how often i'll be able to update, but i hope (emphasis on the HOPE) to be able to update every two weeks. also i might change things...depending on how next weeks episode goes ಠ_ಠ
> 
> and I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT FIGURE SKATING i mean i'm trying to do a bit of research but if i get anything wrong please feel free to tell me!!

**To Victor:**

i need a place to stay

**From Victor:**

You’re always welcome here, yurio!!  (ﾉ≧∀≦)ﾉ

**To Victor:**

DONT CALL ME THAT

**To Victor:**

and stop it with those weird emoji things

 

It wasn’t like Yuri wanted to stay with Victor. Like _hell_ he was looking forward to rooming near the coach that deserted him, and his boyfriend, Yuri’s greatest rival in skating. Yuri got a headache just thinking about those two annoying lovebirds, always flirting with each other and doing gross coupley stuff.

But he needed to get away from Russia for awhile. Far away. And, well, Japan was pretty far. As much as Yuri had hated to ask, he knew Victor, being the softie he was, wouldn’t turn him down. And, most importantly, Hasetsu had an ice rink he could use.

There’s no way he’d let himself get out of shape while he was...on vacation. He couldn’t let Gramps down like that.

Not that it mattered anymore.

Yuri sighed, and leaned his head against the window of the plane. (Yes, he’d asked for permission to stay with Victor moments before boarding the plane to Japan. It had been a last minute ordeal. Yuri felt no guilt catching Victor unprepared like this.) Only a few more hours, and he would be back in Hasetsu, after nearly a year.

God, so much had happened between the Hot Springs on Ice event and now. Victor betraying him to coach the other Yuuri, placing second in Skate Canada and second again at the Rostelecom Cup (stupid JJ), only to be utterly defeated at the Grand Prix by none other than the crybaby brat from Hasetsu who started the whole mess. Yuri gritted his teeth just thinking about stupid Yuuri’s face, how he and Victor had the gall to cheer him on like they were his parents or some shit.

But he had to do this. He needed to get away, and this was his best option. Yuri Plisetsky was strong - he would face his rivals with dignity.

* * *

He was not expecting said rivals to pick him up at the airport.

Yuri clenched his hand into a fist the moment he saw them. Two adult males, bundled in winter coats, jumping up and down and waving in his direction.

“Yurio! Over here!”

“We’ve come to pick you up!”

“Yurioooo!”

_I’m going to murder them._

He would have turned around and run in the opposite direction, but he’d already made eye contact, and Yuri would not show weakness. He clenched his jaw and stormed over to the bouncing couple, who were attracting stares from basically everyone in the vicinity.

“Shut _up_ , the hell is _wrong_ with you guys?” Yuri barked, plodding right past them to the exit. They followed him, flanking him on either side. “Why the hell did you come to pick me up? Wait - how did you even know when I’d get here?”

Victor smiled and held up his cellphone. “Yakov~”

 _I’m going to murder him too._ “Traitor,” he mumbled.

“There’s a car waiting outside,” Victor said. “Do you have any more luggage?” He eyed Yuri’s backpack and small suitcase suspiciously, as if he was looking for another cart of luggage.

Yuri rolled his eyes. “No, I don’t feel the need to bring my entire wardrobe with me every time I leave town for a night.”

Yuri waited for a witty comeback, or some defense of his overflowing wardrobe, but none came. Yuri glanced at him. Victor’s brows were furrowed, as if he was - ugh - _concerned_.

“So, Yuri, how was your flight?” said a voice from his other side. The Japanese Yuuri.

Yuri hadn’t forgotten his loss at the Grand Prix. No - it was still a fresh wound. But Yuri let it bleed, let the adrenaline keep pumping through his veins, powering him through his pain and fueling his drive to succeed. It hurt, but Yuri wouldn’t let that stop him. He wouldn’t show weakness like his rival did, crying in a bathroom after a shameful defeat. Yuri was strong. He was confident that next year, he would win.

“Why do you care,” Yuri snarled.

“Yurio, that’s not nice,” Victor whined, elbowing Yuri in the side hard enough to make him squeak. “Yuuri’s just being polite. You should show him some respect.”

Yuri huffed through his nose, and walked a little faster, ducking ahead of the couple.

He heard them whispering behind him. He couldn’t hear their exact words, but he knew what they were talking about. Yuri wanted to whip around and yell at them to _shut up, keep your nose in your own business!_ but he didn’t want to have to deal with their babying voices telling him to calm down. He was calm. He was fine. He just wanted them to treat him like the adult he was.

The car turned out to be a limo. That was probably - no, definitely - Victor’s doing. Yuri wondered if it was for his sake, or just because this was Victor’s preferred method of travel. The latter, no doubt. That gaudy idiot.

Yuuri offered to take his luggage, but Yuri ignored him. He crawled into the far corner of the limo, so that Victor and Yuuri sat facing him from about ten feet away, hands clasped together. Yuri rolled his eyes. They pretended to disregard him but Yuri knew they kept sneaking looks at him. He bundled up in his designer jacket, and announced he was taking a nap. He passed out within in a few minutes, and slept the entire way to Hasetsu.

* * *

“So I guess he still doesn’t like me,” Yuuri whispered, after he was sure their guest had fallen asleep.

Victor laughed, bringing his right hand up to his face to mask the noise. His left hand still clasped Yuuri’s, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of his hand.

“That’s not surprising,” Victor said. “You beat him in the Grand Prix, remember? He’s probably still bitter about it.”

“He was mad when I lost the Grand Prix, now he’s mad that I won...I just can’t please him, can I?” Yuuri said with a smirk.

Victor booped his nose. “I like that newfound sass of yours. It’s sexy.”

“Victor!”

“What?”

“Why do you think everything I do...is always sexy.”

Victor leaned in close, his eyes barring straight into Yuuri’s. “Because…” he leaned in closer, so his mouth hovered next to his ear. Yuuri could feel his hot breath, his white hair tickling his forehead, “...you’re my sexy pork cutlet bowl.”

“Oh my god Victor, would you please stop bringing that up!” Yuuri leaned away from Victor, who now laughed in earnest. Yuuri quickly covered his boyfriend’s mouth, saying, “Shhh, you’ll wake him.” He nodded towards the blonde boy sitting across from them.

Yuri’s nose and mouth were buried in his jacket, and his eyes were screwed shut. His fingers clenched his jacket tightly. It didn’t look like a peaceful sleep.  

“He looks...troubled,” Yuuri said, letting his hands fall from Victor’s face.

“He _is_ troubled.” Victor sighed. “He only texted me a few hours ago, asking to stay with us. I sensed something was wrong, so I said yes.”

“Actually, I don’t think you would have the heart to turn him down, no matter what the circumstances.”

Victor grinned back. “You, Yuuri Katsuki, may know me even better than I know myself.”

He turned his gaze back to the blonde boy. “I texted Yakov as soon as I could. He filled me in on everything. I’ll tell you later, don’t worry.” Victor gave his hand a squeeze. “He just needs someone to take care of him.”

“We can do that. We’ll be there for him. Me, you, my family and friends...we’ll make sure he’s taken care of.”

Victor leaned over and hugged him. “Thank you, Yuuri, you don’t know how much that means to me.”

Yuuri rested his chin on Victor’s shoulder. “Of course.”

“Just...he’s a teenager and...he’s not your number one fan...”

Yuuri laughed. “Don’t worry, I know.” Yuri could be an asshole to him all he wanted, but that still wouldn’t erase his memory from after the Rostelecom cup, when Yuri shared his katsudon pirozhki with him. Even after beating him in the Grand Prix Finals, he knew Yuri didn’t hate him like he pretended to.

He leaned up against Victor, tucking his head under the other’s chin. It was crazy to think that a year ago, he hadn’t even known Victor - not like he did now. Victor had been his idol, a god that could do no wrong, but now Yuuri knew him for who he was. He knew the real Victor, an eccentric, flirtatious man with no boundaries, with an ego the size of Russia and a heart that was even bigger. He had seen - and been the subject of - Victor’s journey as a coach, a journey filled with rough patches and mistakes, but many moments of happiness, too. Victor had seen more in him than Yuuri had ever seen in himself before, and showed him what he could really do. He learned about a new side of himself, a side Victor brought out (by no accident.) They’d eaten together, slept together, cried together and laughed together, and each time, Yuuri couldn’t believe how lucky he was that this beautiful man was his (and he vowed to keep it that way.) Last year, he’d fallen in love with Victor. And now he couldn’t imagine life without him.

Victor had already choreographed Yuuri’s short program for next season. It was a beautiful piece that was ridiculously difficult, but as nervous as he was about the jumps, he couldn’t wait to learn it.

Victor didn’t seem as excited as he was, though. He pretended he was, but Yuuri saw right through it. The smiles of encouragement he gave Yuuri were fake. Victor analyzed every move of the routine, every step, his fingers always tapping uneasily. Yuuri could think of a hundred reasons why: he wasn’t satisfied with his choreography, he was worried Yuuri wouldn’t perform the program well, he feared Yuuri hit his peak last season -

“Yuuuuuri,” Victor said, nuzzling his cheek against Yuuri’s hair. “You’re thinking too hard. Stop it.”

“S-sorry…” After his breakdown before Skate China last year, Victor had been working hard to sense when Yuuri’s anxiety was surfacing. He had gotten pretty good at it, too.

“What are you worrying about?” Victor asked.

“My short program,” Yuuri said without hesitation. “I’m not learning it fast enough. The routine is beautiful but - ”

“It’s not,” Victor interrupted. His voice was seeped in disdain.

Yuuri sat up. “What? No, Victor, it’s wonderful - ”

“It’s not my best work, and you know it. _I_ know it. And,” Victor said with a laugh, “it’s driving me crazy.”

If Victor didn’t like the program...then that would explain why he’s been acting so weird. Yuuri knew what that felt like, when you know you didn’t do as well as you could. He often felt that way when he watched videos of himself compete; watching himself perform badly frustrated him to no end - he couldn’t go back and fix anything, he simply had to watch and anticipate his failings. Maybe that’s how Victor felt watching Yuuri learn his sub-par routine.

“What don’t you like about it? It’s really beautiful, all the steps flow so smoothly together. And it goes with the music perfectly.”

Victor leaned back against the seat and sighed. “I don’t know...it’s lacking something. I feel like I’ve lost my inspiration.”

So that’s what had Victor in this slump. “Is that why you’ve been acting weird?”

“I’ve been acting weird?”

“The weirdest.”

Victor sunk further into the seat. “Oh.”

“I think I’m the only one who’s noticed, though, if that’s any consolation.”

Victor nodded. “Let’s keep it that way, okay? I’ll start delivering again soon…”

Yuuri placed his hand on Victor cheek, and turned his head to look at him. “You’ll get your inspiration back. I’m sure of it.”

Victor smiled, a real smile this time, the one reserved just for him. It made Yuuri’s heart skip a beat every single time. “Thank you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri kissed him on the nose and then pulled him into a hug. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

* * *

Yuri woke up to the glowing smile of Nishigori Yuuko.

“Yuriooooo!” Yuuko enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug before his sleepy limbs could react.

Even after the nap, exhaustion still had him in its grip. His mouth and nose were dry. His limbs felt groggy and sore and heavy. His head pounded. He just wanted to go back to sleep.

“‘uuko...off,” Yuri mumbled.

“Sorry, I was just so excited to see you!” she exclaimed, stepping back to give him some air.

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too or whatever.” He and Yuuko had been texting back and forth ever since he left Hasetsu. She had insisted on trading phone numbers with him. Even before he got back to Russia, she checked in on him after he left so abruptly. He wouldn’t have even texted her back, except...for whatever reason, he didn’t want to disappoint her. And he feared she would actually board a plane and go after him if she didn’t hear from him.

So they’s sort of become penpals. At first he felt weird about it, since she was Yuuri’s good friend, but he figured that she _technically_ wasn’t Yuuri’s family, so it wasn’t fraternizing with the enemy or anything. Yuuko gave him updates on Yuuri’s training, how her kids were doing, mundane stuff at Ice Castle, and Yuri told her about the back-breaking training from Ms. Baranovskaya, complained about the other skaters under Yakov, and raved about his days out with Gramps. She even sent him compliments on his outfits on his Instragram. Lately, though, she’d been too busy to reply to most of his texts, so it was good to see her in person.

She held out her hand and grinned. Something about her grin seemed off, though - her face didn’t light up in delight like it usually did. And her eyes...she seemed to be looking straight past him. This smile was fake. Yuri wondered why.

Pushing those thoughts aside, he let her help him out of the car. “I’m glad you had a safe flight! Want me to help with your luggage?”

Before he could even open his mouth, three bright flying objects crashed into him, knocking him backwards into the limo.

“Yurio!” three high pitched voices yelled in unison.

“My girls are excited to see you too!”

As if the two lovebirds weren’t enough, he’d have to deal with these _children,_ too.

“Your performance at the Grand Prix was amazing - ”

“That quad combination was flawless - ”

“Why haven’t you come back to visit us?”

“Now girls, Yurio is very busy…”

Yuri swatted the girls off of him, which was extremely difficult because they had grown in the past year. He realized again how much difference a year could make. How had he grown in the last year? He was sixteen now, and at least an inch taller. He had let his hair grow, and now it brushed his shoulders. And then there was the acne, marring Yuri’s perfect skin no matter how many times he scrubbed his face clean or how many products he used. And worst of all was last week…

He wished it was last year again. He’d give anything to go back.

The Nishigori’s stepped aside, and he was greeted - more like mobbed - all over again by the Katsuki’s. Mr. and Mrs. Katsuki both went in for a hug.

“Yurio, you’ve grown!”

“Your performance at the Grand Prix was absolutely wonderful!”

Yuri wanted to shout at them to back off more than anything else in the world, but he didn’t. Maybe he was too tired. Maybe he didn’t have the heart.

They released him and Mari slapped him on the back. “Good to have you, Yurio,” she said. He noticed her hair was dyed red now.

He mumbled, “Yeah, yeah,” before pushing past her and trudging up the stairs. All he wanted was some peace and quiet, he’d had an exhausting plane ride and he didn’t want all this _affection_ from his enemy’s family.

Yuri took the same room he had had before Hot Springs on Ice. Unlike him, it hadn’t changed at all. This room was like a rock in the middle of a ocean of tumultuous waves; a constant in a sea of change. He could pretend it was last year, that Hot Springs on Ice hadn’t yet happened, that he could still bring Victor back with him to Russia, to Yakov and Mila and Gramps -

Yuri slammed the door closed behind him, threw his luggage on the ground, and collapsed on the cot. It was firm and thin, and the room was open and minimalist, and it didn’t remind him of Russia at all. _Good_.

Yuri had lain on the cot for five minutes when his stomach growled. He realized he hadn’t eaten since getting on the plane.

He wasn’t really hungry, even though his stomach protested otherwise. But the noise was annoying. Reluctantly, he got up again and headed downstairs to grab a snack.

All Yuri had wanted was a snack. Just a snack - something he could grab quickly and take up to his room to eat in silence. But, because the world was working against him, his timing was disastrous.

He had walked in on a kitchen of chaos.

Three screaming kids darted around the room like bullets ricocheting off the walls, followed by two exhausted parents who were always two seconds too late. The Katsuki family blustered around the kitchen heaping massive amounts of food back and forth. A drunken ballerina demanded for food in slurred shouts, a large brown poodle weaved through the sea of legs, and an oversized Russian man attempted to navigate through this perilous maze.

Yuri immediately turned around and headed back upstairs.

“Wait!” A hand snatched his wrist and pulled, sending him tumbling backwards into a chest hard with muscle.

Yuri leaped away from Victor, pushing his hand off of him. “What?!”

Victor clasped his hands in front of him, pleading, “We could really use your help.”

Yuri scoffed. “Well you’re not getting it.” Like hell he was walking into that storm of chaos and pork.

Victor smirked. “Too bad,” he said. He turned around and called, “Katsuki-san! Yurio said he’d help you with the dishes!”

Yuri’s sneer dropped off his face.

Yuuri’s mother turned around with a grin on her face as bright as his camera flash. She waved a chopstick in his direction and shouted over the noise, “Oh, he’s such a dear! Yurio, the dishes are over here - ”

Victor pushed him in the direction of the kitchen. “How nice of you, Yurio~”

He had no choice. _Stupid Victor._ Yuri pushed his hand away with a snarl and went to help the old lady.

He helped set out dishes and utensils and drinks for everyone without a single complaint, which Yuri thought he should have gotten credit for. Having to carry dishes without tripping over small children, let alone a dog and his giant owner, was a tedious task of much mental and physical fortitude. There was no way he was ever doing that again. Even if there was a reward of delicious food at the end.

They all sat down, said their thanks, and dug in.

Yuri took a bite of the katsudon. It didn’t taste as delicious as he remembered it. It didn’t taste like anything at all. There was a time when katsudon reminded him of the hot spring and Yuuri and Victor, but now, it reminded him of pirozhkis. And Gramps.

He felt suddenly sick.

The rest of the group made conversation, but Yuri blocked it out. He laid his chopsticks across his bowl and stared at them. Thankfully, they left him alone.

He glanced around once in awhile, taking stock of everyone. They seemed as lively as ever, but Yuuko...she still seemed to be hiding something. She seemed almost...sad. Her husband seemed to be comforting her often, but it did little to cheer her mood. Once again, Yuri wondered what was wrong.

The smell of the katsudon finally got to him, that sickly sweet scent making his brain swim. He grabbed his bowl and stood up. “I’m going to go back up to my room,” he announced. “‘Night.”

Everyone looked confused.

“...what?” he said.

Victor smiled at him, they way parents smile at kids when they ask about politics or sex or some complicated adult thing. _Oh, you poor ignorant fool._

“Oh Yurio, you’re staying with us.” Victor wrapped his arm around Yuuri’s shoulders.

Yuri froze. _No no no no..._ he was just getting acquainted with his old room. In the inn with lots of other people who _weren’t his skating rivals_ and a relaxing onsen. “I thought you lived here?”

Yuuri shook his head. “Not anymore. We have our own flat across town…”

“You’re going to love it!”

Alone, with Victor and Yuuri. Could his life get any better?

“Wait!” Yuuko suddenly shouted. The room went silent as everyone’s attention turned to her. “I know you want to get going, Yuri, but before you leave, there’s something I should tell you all. I’ve...been meaning to bring it up for a while, it’s just - I didn’t want to have to tell you at all, and I thought maybe - ”

“Yuu-chan.” Yuuri said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. Just tell us.”

Yuuko sighed, and tension and fakeness drained from her body, leaving only hopelessness. “Ice Castle Hasetsu...is going out of business.”


	2. A Touch of Frost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: if you started reading this when i first posted it, go back and reread the first chapter bc i made a lot of changes! if you don't want to read the whole thing, just read the section of Yuri's POV bc that's the main part that changed.
> 
> it was been too long since i last posted. i had finals, but they're over now, so i can write!
> 
> in other news, i love Otabek Altin. I changed things around so i could include him. oops.

On the fifth day Yuri didn’t return his call, Otabek began to worry.

It was unusual not to hear from Yuri for such a long period of time. They’d been texting nearly every day since they’d met again in Barcelona. Even more worrying was Yuri’s social media silence. Nothing on Snapchat, or Twitter; not a single photo on Instagram.

Otabek stared at the last text he’d sent to Yuri, three days ago.

**To Yuri:**

_Is everything alright?_

The lack of a reply was more than an answer to his question. Otabek knew Yuri could be a bit dramatic, but even when he went silent to the world, Yuri never stopped texting him.

He hoped he hadn’t done anything wrong. He really appreciated Yuri’s friendship, and couldn’t bear to think about losing it.

More importantly, he had to know that Yuri was okay.

It wasn’t difficult to get ahold of Mila. She was friends with one of the skaters who shared Otabek’s coach. Mila, Otabek thought, was his best chance at finding out what Yuri was up to.

“Hello?”

“This is Otabek Altin. You are friends with Yuri, correct?”

Mila laughed. “Otabek! No need to be so formal. What’s up?”

“I haven’t heard from Yuri recently...is he…?”

Mila sighed, and told him everything.

 _Oh._ That explained a lot.

“Do you know where he is?” he asked her, before hanging up.

“He’s not here. Yakov said he went to visit Victor in Hasetsu.”

“Thanks, Mila. For everything.”

“Anytime, Otabek. If you’re doing what I think you’re doing...give him a hug from me.”

“I just wanted to know he was somewhere safe.”

“...okay, sure.”

He hung up and pocketed his phone. Then he pulled it back out and sent another text.

**To Yuri:**

_Are you okay?_

* * *

_Bzzz. Bzzzz._

With a groan, Yuri opened his eyes.   

_Bzzz. Bzzzz._

This is the sixth time someone was calling him this morning. He’d ignored it the first five times, thinking he could fall back asleep. Then his phone rang _again_. He flung a hand out, grabbed his phone, and glared at the screen.

 _Call from_ **_Red Haired Bitch_ **

He hit “answer” and held the phone up to his ear.

“Mila...why the hell are you calling me at...at whatever the hell the time is now…?” he spat, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Yuri! You picked up!”

“Yeah, so you’d _stop fucking calling me_.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have had to if you’d picked up the first time.”

“Tch.” Yuri rolled out of bed, and glanced at the digital clock on the table beside him. It was already 11:30. But Yuri was still tired; he felt like he could sleep for years.

“Did you land safely? Did Victor pick you up? How is he? How are you?”

Yuri groaned at the onslaught of questions. His brain still needed to wake up. “It’s...whatever.”

Staying with Victor and Yuuri...wasn’t as bad as he thought it’d be. The first night, at least, wasn’t awful. After Yuuko’s announcement, the table had gone up in chaos, shouting and confusion and gasps and shock, but in the end, everyone decided it was a conversation best left until morning. So he had driven back to the lovebird’s apartment and gone straight to bed, despite Victor’s protests. He had the guest bedroom all to himself, thankfully.

“That wasn’t an answer.”

Yuri yawned. “It’s all you’re going to get.”

Mila sighed dramatically. “Shouldn’t have expected anything more from you, Yurachka.”

“Don’t call me that!” Yuri snapped.

Mila was silent for a moment. Maybe he had spoken a little too sharply. Yuri didn’t really care.

“Otabek called,” she said.

“Beka…?”

 _Oh._ Yuri hadn’t contacted his friend since...since that day. He’d thought about it lots of times. He’d received a hundred calls since that day, and rejected most of them without a second thought. But when Otabek called...that’s when he felt the guiltiest. He hadn’t gone this long without talking to him in a long time. But there was something stopping him every time he thought about talking to Otabek. He couldn’t face his friend. Not right now.

“Let him know you’re okay, okay? He sounded worried about you.”

“Fine.” Yuri didn’t like to think he was making Otabek worry.

“Good. And Yuri?”

“...”

“We’re here for you. All of us.”

“...yeah, whatever.” On that note, he hung up.

The apartment was quiet. He wandered out his door, and into the kitchen. There was a note in Russian on the table:

_Yurio,_

_Good morning! Hope you slept well! Yuuri and I are holding a meeting at Ice Castle for anyone who wants to help save it from going out of business. Come and join us! If you would rather skate, you can do that too! After you complete my warm-up, that is~_

_Love,_

_Victor Katsuki <3 _

Yuri remembered last year, when he thought Victor’s warm-ups were the cruelest, most intense warm-ups he had ever been subjected to. That was before Ms. Baranovskaya. She made Victor’s warm-ups look like child’s play.

Just one more thing that had changed in the past year. Yuri didn’t know if all this change was good or bad.

A kind, wrinkled smile. The smell of fresh piroshkis. A steady arm wrapped around his shoulders.

_It doesn’t have to be one or the other, Yurachka._

Yuri nearly dropped his phone. Bad. Change was definitely bad.

He busied himself with breakfast, grabbing whatever leftovers the lovebirds had in their fridge and heating it up. It was only after he’d made himself breakfast that he looked at his phone again.  

_11 new messages._

But there was only one that mattered.

**From Beka:**

_Are you okay?_

He stared at the message until his breakfast was gone. Otabek probably sent this message after he talked to Mila...which means she must’ve told him. So he knew. And Yuri wasn’t sure he knew how to deal with that.

Finally, he slowly typed:

**To Beka:**

_I’m fine. Sorry_

He hesitated another moment before adding:

**To Beka:**

_I’ve been busy_

Not even a minute passed before he received a reply.

**From Beka:**

_That’s okay. I’m glad to hear from you now._

Yuri frowned.

**To Beka:**

_Mila told you, didn’t she_

**To Beka:**

_You don’t need to worry about me_

**To Beka:**

_I’m not some delicate flower_

**From Beka:**

_I know. Yuri Plisetsky is strong._

His fingers hovered over the keyboard. How did Otabek always know exactly what he needed to hear? _I am strong,_ he told himself again and again and again. But he remembered the way Yakov and Ms. Baranovskaya and Mila and Georgi looked at him, he heard Yuuri and Victor’s concerned whispers in the car and he felt the space everyone gave him, the empty and awkward void they thought he need, and he imagined those sad smile everyone gave him like he was made of glass and would shatter at any moment. Lying awake in bed the past week with unshed tears in his eyes.

**To Beka:**

_Sometimes i think youre the only one who believes that_

Yuri turned off his phone and gathered his gear. Without waiting for a reply, he set off for Ice Castle Hasetsu.

* * *

“It just doesn’t flow right. All the moves fit together like pieces from different puzzles - no matter how I smash them together, they’ll never create a beautiful picture.”

Yuuri knew better than to contradict Victor, even if he thought that the routine was beautiful. _Maybe it’s just Victor. Victor can make anything beautiful._

“You’ll find the pieces. I know you can.” Leaning against the partition, he watched Victor skate nervous laps around the rink. He’d been in here for hours, with Yuuri there to play and replay the music, but his agitation had only grown worse.

And Victor had been so excited after the intervention committee.

That morning, Victor had gathered the Nishigoris, Katsukis, Minako, and all the employees at Ice Castle in the front of the rink as a way to brainstorm ways to save Ice Castle. Yuuri was touched that Victor was doing all this; he knew how much Ice Castle meant to Yuuri and his family and friends, and was already acting to save his special place.  

He really loved his husband.

Yuuko had explained everything in detail, how Ice Castle had been on a downward spiral for a long time, and that the only reason they’d gone on until now was because of the Hots Springs on Ice last year. To keep it open for more than half a year, they’d need a miracle.  

 _“Or...Hot Springs on Ice TWO!”_ Victor had shouted proudly.

And so it was decided that, as a fundraiser for Ice Castle Hasetsu, the rink would host a Hot Springs on Ice II event. They hoped to feature a rematch of Yuuri vs. Yuri - if Yuri agreed, which Yuuko was sure he would (or else she would make him) - and a feature performance by Victor himself.

“And because of our gold medalist, we’ll draw even more of a crowd than last year!” Minako had boasted while squeezing Yuuri’s cheek.

“Two gold medalists,” Victor had added, squeezing Yuuri’s other cheek.

The event would be hosted a month from now, barely giving enough time for Victor to scrape together three routines and for everyone to learn them. The next month would be tough, but for Ice Castle, it would be worth it.

After the meeting, Yuuri had talked to Yuuko. He couldn’t imagine the amount of stress she was under, and he worried for her, like he always did.

_“Hey,” Yuuri said to Yuuko, once she had sent the triplets away to check the schedule for the upcoming season. “It’s going to be okay.”_

_Yuuko took both his hands and squeezed the tight. “I’m so scared to lose this place, Yuuri. It’s like...like - ”_

_“Home,” Yuuri finished for her. She nodded fiercely._

_“Ice Castle is home for me, for the triplets and Takeshi, for you and now for Victor too…”_

_“And that’s why weren’t not going to let it go,” Yuuri reassured her. “We won’t let you lose your home, even if that means we have to a hundred Hot Springs on Ice - ”_

_Yuuko laughed. “You’ll be too wrinkly then, no one will want to look at you by Hot Springs on Ice Twenty!”_

_“H-hey!”_

Victor said this was the inspiration he had been waiting for. He insisted Yuuri accompany him immediately to the rink, to be there for him while he choreographed a new routine for Yuri. He and Victor had ended up staying at the rink, Victor to work on his choreography, Yuuri to help and practice. It mostly turned out to be Victor complaining, and Yuuri nodding along, despite his growing irritation.

“Play it again,” Victor demanded.

He hit play, and [the music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qV8EhpwSCRo) wafted through the arena. Victor tried the beginning again, tweaking one combination and replacing a jump with a spin. Barely ten seconds into the piece, he let out a giant groan and stopped skating.

“Pause it, pause it!” he yelled. He skated over to Yuuri and reached across the divider, draping himself over Yuuri’s shoulders. Yuuri hugged him back. Pouty Victor was needy Victor.

“I can’t do this music justice,” Victor complained.

“Maybe you should choose something else, then?” Yuuri suggested.

Victor popped, saying, “No, no no no, then that means I’ve failed! I have to use this song, and it has to be _perfect!_ I will not fail Borodin!”

This one one of many things that Yuuri had learned about Victor since they’d first met (or when he _thought_ they’d first met) in Hasetsu: Victor Nikiforov - er, Katsuki - was a perfectionist. Victor would never let anything rest if it was less than his standard of perfection. Maybe that was why he’d pushed himself past his limit and had been so successful.

But Victor tended to grow fixated until he achieved perfection. He wasn’t afraid to mess up, or to make mistakes; he’d made as many of them as he needed in order to succeed. But he would push himself, both mentally and physically, until he reached his breaking point. Once, when Yuuri’s mother taught Victor her recipe for katsudon, he’d spent a week making nothing but that, trying to perfect the recipe. Yuuri thought he would die watching Victor eating all that katsudon in front of him. Victor never pursued things half-heartedly.

 _Just like with me,_ he thought, remembering all of Victor consistent advances since day one (which had suddenly become so clear that night in Barcelona.)

Yuuri placed his hands on Victor’s shoulders. “You’ll figure it out. I’m sure Borodin would be proud to know such an amazing figure skater chose his music for his routine. But how about we take a break first?”

“I just need another hour…”

“After lunch?” Yuuri smiled, with his “puppy dog eyes” as Phichit called it, the look that Victor couldn’t refuse.

Victor sighed. “After lunch,” he agreed.

Yuuri smiled, and helped him off the ice. Even if he couldn’t help Victor with his inspiration, or pull him out of his perfectionist mindset, he’d always be there when Victor stepped off the ice, just as Victor was always there for him.

* * *

Yuri loitered outside Ice Castle waiting for Victor and Yuuri to leave for lunch, like they have every day for the past week. After an uncomfortable run-in that first day, Yuri took care to minimize his interactions with the lovebirds. He would get up late, stretch and warm-up, then head to Ice Castle to train while the lovebirds were eating lunch together like the gross domestic couple they are, endure Victor’s instruction when he got back from lunch, then leave and go back to their apartment to work on his online classes. He ignored all his calls from Yakov and Mila. He declined Yuuko’s invitations to eat dinner with them. He didn’t visit the hot spring at all.

A couple headed out of the ice rink, one blonde, the other brunette, hands clasped together. Yuri rolled his eyes, waited until the lovebirds were out of sight, and made his way inside.

“Hey Yurio!” Takeshi greeted. “Go right ahead. Looks like you have the place to yourself...again.”

Yuri waved at him and continued inside. Alone again. He liked having the rink to himself, but that could only be bad for business.

According to Victor, business could easily be revived. When he had told Yuri how, he’d spit out his drink. _Hot Springs on Ice II._ If Yuri hadn’t known him for so long, he never would’ve believed he came up with such a ridiculous idea. He agreed to skate in it, of course, but only to help Yuuko.

He texted Otabek all about it. Honestly, it was kind of nice to have someone to listen to him. Even if it was just to complain about this stupid event.

**To Beka:**

_I can’t believe him!_

**To Beka:**

_Making me do this stupid thing again_

**From Beka:**

_But he’s choreographing a routine for you again, right? That’s lucky._

**To Beka:**

_lucky?_

**To Beka:**

_I could have Victor make me a routine any damn time i want_

**From Beka:**

_It’s still nice of you to do it. That must mean a lot to Yuuko and Yuuri._

**To Beka:**

_Whatever._

Yuuri placed his phone on the edge of the divider, put on his skates, and began working on that damn routine Victor choreographed for him.

The music was from Borodin’s _Prince Igor_. Yuri hated it. He was very vocal about his hate to Victor, but Victor seemed to hate it just as much as him. So he was stuck with a routine that not only _he_ hated, but his choreographer/temporary coach hated, too. Practice this last week had been awful.

But that wasn’t the worst thing.

The worst thing wasn’t the music or the routine. It wasn’t having to learn a new routine in such a short amount of time. It wasn’t having to go up against Yuuri again. The worst thing was that Hot Springs on Ice reminded him of his routine last year to _On Love: Agape_. Unconditional love. Gramps.

He flubbed his triple axel and fell onto the ice.

_Shit._

He wanted to lay there, in a heap on the ground, and melt into the ice. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about this stupid rematch. He wouldn’t have to worry about the lovebirds or Ice Castle or last year -

_Bzzz. Bzzz._

With an impetuous moan, Yuri picked himself up and checks his phone.

_1 New Message from **Beka** _

**From Beka:**

_When is the event?_

Glad to have a distraction, Yuri texted back.

**To Beka:**

_Four weeks from today_

**To Beka:**  

_Itll probably be televised_

**To Beka:**

_But idk if you can view it_

**To Beka:**

_The triplets will probably post it online anyway_

**To Beka:**

_I mean_

**To Beka:**

_If you want to watch_

**From Beka:**

_Of course I want to watch_

Yuri almost smiled.

**To Beka:**

_Okay_

**From Beka:**

_I need to size up my competition for the Grand Prix. You’re going down, Yuri Plisetsky._

Yuri gasped. Then he looked around to be sure no one heard him. Otabek was usually so straightforward, it was rare to see any sass from him.

**To Beka:**

_No way in hell, Beka_

**To Beka:**

_I’m gonna win this time_

Even as Yuri typed out the words, they felt hollow. He could tell himself that as much as he wanted, but he didn’t feel it a single bit.

* * *

“Again.”

If there were anything within arms reach, Yuri would have grabbed it and thrown it at Victor.

Instead, he flew across the ice and got up in Victor's face, jabbing his finger in his chest.

“You know what? No!” he yelled. “This music is shit! This piece doesn’t fit me!”

The beginning of week two of learning the Borodin program started out horribly. Victor made him do the beginning again and again, even though he executed the steps perfectly, because he couldn’t 'capture the right emotion.'

“You said that about Agape last year!” Victor protested.

Yuri felt sick to his stomach. “That was different!”

“Yuri - ”

“You just don’t get it.”

It wasn’t the program. It was _him_. He was missing something, and that was the reason the routine could never fit him.

“You just need to get in touch with your spirit - ”

“My spirit’s gone,” Yuri said. The words sounded hollow in his throat. “All my passion or spirit or my muse or whatever...it’s gone. And it’s not coming back.”

“Yuri…” Victor reached out for him but Yuri skated away, away across the ice and out of the rink. He needed to get out of here - he needed to be alone, he needed -

A kind, wrinkled smile. The smell of fresh piroshkis. A steady hand grounding him as they glided across the ice, together...

 

_“You’re getting good at this, Yurachka. You’ll be a pro in no time!” Gramps told him, his blue eyes twinkling._

_“You think so?”_

_Gramps patted his head, and gave his hand an encouraging squeeze. “I know so.”_

 

For the first time in his life, Yuri didn’t want to be on the ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hc that yuri plisetsky will double/triple/quadruple/etc text bc gives no fucks about it. And otabek would never
> 
> comments and kudos always appreciated! hopefully I'll get the next chapter up faster! (and to give you an estimate, i think this should be about 4 chapters long. probably)
> 
> also IDK ANYTHING about ice skating so if you see anything blatantly wrong, feel free to point it out. 
> 
>  
> 
> _PS the Borodin piece they're talking about is from the[Polovtsian Dances](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qV8EhpwSCRo) and it's a fucking great piece_


	3. Barely Skating By

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you see the latest episode? I AM SO PROUD OF MY SON
> 
> so here - have this angst. i wrote it at 3 AM this morning and read through it once, so i apologize beforehand

“I don’ get it. This was supposed to be my new _inspiration_.”

“Victor.”

“I was really _inspired_! ...at leas’, I thought I was. Safing Has - Hasetsu, y’know, another battle between two rivals who’re always neck an’ neck, the perfect battle theme!”

“Victor.”

“I _had_ it! I had...no. Yurio’s right. I never had it. Is not - the piece isn’t - I can’t - ”

“Victor!”

Victor turned to him, his eyes slightly glazed over, his breath smelling of alcohol. Victor had gone a little overboard on the sake that night. Or maybe a lot overboard. After Yuri’s dramatic and aggressive exit, Victor went straight home; he hid his distress well, but Yuuri saw how quiet and trite he was, how tense his shoulders were, how fake his smile was. Sensing his need to relax, Yuuri had brought him to Nagahama Ramen to unwind.

Victor looked lowered his eyes. He wrapped his arms around Yuuri and buried his head into Yuuri’s chest, mumbling, “Sorry, Yuuuuri...I’m jus’ worried ‘bout our son.”

“Our...son?”

Victor sat up, his expression the very picture of concern. “Our _son_! Yurio!” he said, shaking Yuuri’s shoulders.

“Oh my god.” _Victor must be drunker than I thought._ “Vicchan, maybe we should go home…”

He pulled out of Victor’s grasp and reached for Victor’s designer coat, wrapping it around his shoulders and doing up the buttons for him.

He stopped when he noticed how still Victor was. He glanced up.

Victor’s eyebrows rose high on his glistening forehead, his blue eyes wide and teary. His mouth made a perfect ‘o’.

“W-what is it…”

Victor smiled as wide as the Cheshire Cat, biting his bottom lip with his upper teeth, in the goofiest grin Yuuri had ever seen on him. His cheeks were flushed even deeper than before. “Yuuri!! You called me Vicchan!” he proudly shouted to the entire restaurant.

As silence settled upon the bar, Yuuri’s face turned even redder than Victor’s. He tried to ignore all the heads turning their way and tugged on VIctor’s jacket. “Okay! Time to go!” He pulled Victor out of his seat and dragged him to the door. Victor flopped all over him, kissing his neck and hair, cooing sweet nothings in his ear, dragging his arms clumsily along Yuuri’s arms and back.

“Yuuuuuri, that was so cute! You should call me Vicchan all the time!” Victor said with lips pressed against his collarbone.

It took all of Yuuri’s self control not the melt on the spot. “O-okay, I will, but first let’s go home - ”

“Say my name again!”

“Um...Victor?”

 _“No!_ Not like that!”

Yuuri groaned. Drunk Victor was so needy (not that he should be complaining; Yuuri knew how _he_ got when he was drunk.)

“...V-Vicchan?”

Yuuri swore Victor started purring into his shoulder. _Well, this is something I’ll have to remember for the bedroom._ It was a little weird to be calling his lover by the same name as his dead dog, if he was being honest with himself. Earlier it had just slipped out, but if Victor liked it...he supposed he could do it.

Yuuri walked them home, as well as he could manage with a large man draped over his shoulders like a clingy cape. Luckily, their apartment wasn’t too far from the restaurant.

Once they got back home, Yuuri poured Victor a large glass of water.

“Drink,” he commanded, and Victor took it without a word.

While Victor drank his water, Yuuri went to check on their small Russian tenant.

He nudged the door of the guest bedroom open, and peaked into the room. He could just make out a blonde mop at the top of the bed, and the slow rise and fall of the blanket around his middle. With a sigh of relief, Yuuri gently pushed the door closed. After what Victor had told him about Yuri’s tantrum, he feared the boy would just run off. He had a flair for dramatics, after all. But now, Yuuri could finally relaxing, knowing he was safe and sound and here.

 _Our_ son _! Yurio!_

Yuuri smiled. He kind of _did_ feel like a dad checking in on his son. Maybe Victor was right about that one.

He went back into the kitchen, where Victor sat with his hands wrapped around an empty glass; his eyes looked a little more clear.

“Yuuri - he ran off on me,” Victor said without looking up. Yuuri came to his side, and started rubbing circles on his back. “I’ve pushed him hard before, but he never...he could always take it. What did I do wrong?”

“It’s not you. You know how he...with what’s happened.”

Victor sighed. “I know. It’s just - this was my one way to help him. And I can’t even do that right.”

“It’s not your fault,” Yuuri repeated. “Yuri just needs to learn how to cope.”

“It’s not easy.”

“It’s really not. But he can do it. This is the kid that outscored your world record at fifteen years old. Who nearly beat me at the Grand Prix. He trained harder than anyone else, he’s been inducted into the adult world at such a young age, and has come out stronger. He’ll manage.”

Victor groaned. “But I want to help that little brat! I hate watching from the sidelines.”

Yuuri knew how he felt. It was the same for him when Minako’s husband died; no matter what he did to cheer her up, she wouldn’t get out of her slump. It was when she was ready, when she came to terms with it, that she moved on. “This is something Yuri needs to work out for himself.”

Victor leaned into Yuuri’s hand, spread flat across his lower back, and tilted his head back. “Yuuri Katsuki - you’re a lot wiser than people give you credit for.”

“Thank you.”

Victor smirked. “Well..when it comes to people that aren’t you.”

“Victor!”

The Russian threw his head back and laughed, that snorty laugh he had when he was drunk. Yuuri found himself snorting along with him. Victor looked adorable with that stupid grin of his, the toothy one that he never showed the press, and those eyes that crinkled at the corners and that nose that scrunched up like a pig. Even with all the chaos happening around them, Victor could still smile, openly and sincerely, and that smile was Yuuri’s anchor, the thing that grounded him and kept him smiling, too.

Occasionally, Victor was a hard man to deal with, but Yuuri loved him so much that sometimes it scared him.

This wasn’t one of those times.

Their laughs died down and Yuuri made Victor drink another glass of water. Then he ushered them off to bed, where the lied down next to each other, bodies entwined, and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

The next day, Yuri didn’t go to Ice Castle.

Instead, he visited the waterfall where Victor sent him to find his ‘agape’ last year. He woke up at the asscrack of dawn, before even Victor was awake, and hitched a cab to the waterfall. He texted Victor that he’d be back in the evening, but didn’t tell him where he was going. That way they wouldn’t worry, wouldn't be able to go after him.

An hour later, he laid on a large, flat rock next to the waterfall, and pretended it was last year. The falling water pounded in his ears as it hit the pond in sudden splashes, spraying his right side with cold, fresh water. The wind played in the grove of trees, ruffling their branches and leaves that were just beginning to grow in. He stared at the sky, impossibly blue and clear. Then he closed his eyes and breathed in. It smelled like dirt and bark and fish and nothing at all.

A year ago, he’d stood under that waterfall and had an epiphany about the meaning of ‘unconditional love.’ Now, he couldn’t remember _not_ understanding what that was.

He was surrounded by _agape_ , as much as he loathed to admit it. Coach, and Ms. Baranovskaya, and Mila and Georgi and all the other skaters. Victor. Yuuko. Otabek.

And, of course, the one who made him realize he was loved in the first place.

A breeze scraped past him in an icy wave, causing his eyes to water.

_I am strong. I am strong. I am strong._

He wiped away the formation of tears. He hated crying - it made him feel weak.

_I am strong. I am strong. I am strong._

A bird chirped. The water continued to roar. Yuri kept his eyes squeezed shut.

_I am strong. I am strong. I am -_

_Weak. Yuri Plisetsky is weak._

He had left Russia. He had run away from his problems, from his life, even his cat (who he’d left with Mila) because he was weak. This wasn’t a vacation - he wasn’t fooling anyone. This wasn’t a retreat, it was an all out surrender. This was him giving in. And today proved it. He ran away from skating, from training. He couldn’t even get back on the ice.

Who _was_ Yuri Plisetsky when he wasn’t on ice?

A coward? A weakling? A fool?

He shouldn’t be like this - he should be out there, facing the world, because Yuri Plisetsky was suppose to be strong, strong enough to take down some of the world’s most renown figure skaters in his first season as a senior. That proved them wrong, all the people who thought he was weak and childish and delicate. He was the Ice Tiger of Russia, a budding femme fatale with an army of fangirls, a man in every sense of the word. He was sixteen now, a man’s age, and he was suppose to be strong like a man -

 

_“Yurachka, look how big you’ve grown!” Gramps said him as he ticked off Yuri’s newly measured height on the kitchen wall. “So big and strong, like a man!”_

_Yuri looked at Gramps with glowing eyes. “Just like you!”_

_Gramps smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck. “Oh, I don’t know if I’m so strong anymore - ”_

_“You’re the manliest man!” Yuri insisted. “And I’m gonna grow up to be just like you!”_

_Underneath all his whiskers, Yuri could swear Gramps blushed. He reached out and ruffled Yuri’s hair. “Oh, Yurachka. You just need to be yourself. And then,_ you’re _the one who’s going to be the manliest man!”_

_“You think so?!”_

_“I know so.”_

 

Yuri shoved the palms of his hands against his eyes before the tears could start.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to scream and cry and let it out - but he couldn’t. He couldn’t. He was a man, he was stronger than that.

His phone buzzed. Yuri opened his eyes.

It was almost dark out. He felt like he’s been laying out here for years - for seconds. He pulled out his phone.

 _1 new message from_ **_Beka_ ** _._

**From Beka:**

_When should I get there for Hot Springs on Ice?_

Yuri didn’t reply. He called a cab, and his legs carried his body over to the side of the road. But his head was still lost in the waterfall.

* * *

Yuri skipped practice every day that week.

It felt weird. He hadn’t skipped practice for this long in, well, since he had started skating, probably. He wanted it to feel liberating, but it just felt...wrong.

But he couldn’t go back to the rink. He couldn’t face Victor and that awful routine because he knew he couldn’t do it justice. Not like this. Not without his muse, not without what got him this far in skating, in life -

He went back to the waterfall, every day. Being there was painful and relieving, like pushing a bruise. While you pressed on it, it was fine, even satisfying, but when you pulled your finger away it hurt. Old memories would float through his head, and he’d latch onto them, reliving the good, before it began to hurt and he squashed them away. Like a bruise he couldn’t stop touching.

Yuri had lots of experience with that. He bruised easily, and, especially in his early days, when he fell while skating, his sides would bloom with purple and black. Yuri didn’t mind them; he felt like they were wounds from a hard earned battle. _Like a soldier,_ as Otabek said.

But this - this didn’t feel like a battle wound. These were mental bruises, bruises that were dark and numerous and heavy. Bruises that didn’t go away. Worse than any bruise he got while skating. Because this was the first time he couldn’t skate in spite of it.

Hot Springs on Ice was in three weeks, and Yuri wouldn’t be able to skate in it.

He’d have to tell Yuuko. He felt awful about it, but he would feel worse if he performed horribly at her big event. They didn’t need him, anyway; they had gold-medalist Yuuri Katsuki, and his stupid gold-medalist boyfriend, too. That was more than enough, right?

They didn’t need him. He was useless, now.

So he loitered around the waterfall, walking around the grove of trees, skipping stones across the pond, lying on the rock in the sun, waiting for the days to pass by. It felt like years or it felt like seconds - Yuri couldn’t tell which. It was like living in limbo. Yuri hated it. But it was better than going back to that hell in the rink.

His last thought, as he left that Friday evening, was about Otabek. He didn’t text Otabek that whole week. Otabek had texted him several times, but Yuri never replied. He couldn’t bring himself to. He knew he would just end up complaining or spilling everything or lying and he didn’t want Otabek to suffer through any of those. He didn’t want Otabek to think differently about him because of his weakness.

So Yuri just didn’t text him. He just wanted to be left alone, with the bruises in his mind and the roaring of the waterfall.

* * *

“How much do plane tickets to Japan cost?” Otabek asked his coach.

His coach looked at him funny. “I’m not sure...how should I know?”

“Just wondering.” Otabek pulled out his phone and started to search for flights to Japan.

“Why?”

Otabek answered with a shrug.

“Otabek Altin. _Just what are you planning on doing?”_

* * *

“Yurio’s been gone every day this week.”

“I know.”

“He hasn’t even told us where he’s been going!”

“I know.”

“He’s sixteen, Yuuri. Just _sixteen_.”

“Vicchan, I _know_.”

Victor finally stopped pacing around the kitchen. His tense shoulders dropped. Victor had been worked up all week over Yuri’s strange behavior, a feeling of tension that had finally snapped that afternoon while they ate lunch at home. Yuuri really didn’t know how to help him, since he was just as worried about the poor boy.

Victor picked up a spatula and pointed it at Yuuri, a new look of determination on his face. “You know what? This stops today. I thought he needed his freedom, but we let it go too far.”

Yuuri was reluctant to agree, but Victor was right. He had checked to make sure the boy made it back every night - he did, even though he went to sleep before Victor or Yuuri could talk to him - but Yuuri still didn’t know where he was going during the day. All he knew was that Yuri wasn’t coming to the ice rink. And _that_ worried him more than anything else.

“Oh Victor...what have we done,” Yuuri mumbled. He slumped into a stool at the kitchen counter, sinking his face into his hands.

Two large arms, one still holding a spatula, wrapped around his shoulders. Victor nuzzled his face in the top of Yuuri’s head, though the spatula poked his ear uncomfortably. “It’s okay - I have a plan! Tonight, when Yurio gets back, we’re going to be waiting here. And we’re going to sit him down and have a talk.”

“What he just leaves?” Yuuri mumbled.

“He won’t.”

“And why’s that?”

“We’re going to bribe him - with food!”

Victor’s brilliant idea was to make katsudon pirozhki. Victor insisted it would be the perfect bribe. Yuri probably hadn’t had pirozhki in a while, and Victor thought it would remind him of home. Yuuri wasn’t sure if it would go over well, because of Yuri’s...situation, but Victor wasn’t worried. And Yuuri didn’t want to give up on they only idea either of them had.

They spent the rest of the afternoon cooking. Their little kitchen became a flurry of bowls and pots and flour and rice. Victor took the lead, commanding Yuuri to crack eggs and cook the rice while he handled the pirozhki dough and the pork. When evening came around, there was a steaming pile of fresh katsudon pirozhki on the table (and a chaotic mess everywhere else.)

They split one to try. Victor hummed in contentment as he bit into it. “Maybe I should have been a chef.”

Yuuri nodded. “Hnn, you would have made a great chef. A husband who can cook sounds nice.”

“I can cook!”

“You can cook three things, Victor. Three things. And two of them are some form of katsudon.”

“But I make them really well.”

Yuuri laughed. He couldn’t argue with that.

They finished their sample and sat at the table, waiting in complete silence. Once, Victor’s phone dinged, but he ignored it. Yuuri’s phone buzzed, but he turned it off.

They waited. And waited. And waited.

Yuri came back later than ever; nearly ten o’clock.

Yuuri hadn’t really seen the Russian boy in a week; he looked worse than when he first arrived. His hair, partially hidden under his hoodie, was noticeably greasy. Dark circles were painted under his watery, empty eyes. His face was sunburnt and flaking. A nasty frown marred his peeling lips.

He headed straight for the stairs, but stopped when he noticed Victor and Yuuri sitting at the table, plate of pirozhkis in front of their folded hands.

“What the hell are those,” Yuri hissed.

“Katsudon pirozhki! They’re not as warm anymore, but they’re good. We made them just for you,” Victor said.

Yuri stared at them, his lip raising in disgust.

Victor cleared his throat and gestured to the seat in front of them. “If you have a seat, we’d like to talk to you. We’ve been...worried about you. You can have as many pirozhi’s as you want, as long as you listen to what we have to say.”

But Yuri didn’t look like he heard him. He continued to stare at the plate of steaming buns.

“You...why did you…”

Were those...tears, glistening in the corner of his eyes?

Yuuri’s heart broke in two.

“We thought they might make you feel a little more at home…” Yuuri said.

“We just wanted to make you feel happy,” Victor added.

Something in Yuri snapped. He didn’t know what it was, but he could see it - his dead eyes lit up like a flame, his eyebrows snapped down and his teeth gritted against each other in an outright growl. _Oh dear._

He stormed up to the table and flung the tray of delicacies into the air, sending luke-warm pirozhkis flying in every direction. _Oh dear oh dear oh dear -_

 _“STOP TRYING TO BE HIM!_ ” Yuri roared at them. A stray pirozhki hit the top of Yuuri’s head.

“We’re not - ”

Yuri leaned across the table to shout in their faces, spit flying everywhere. “YES YOU ARE! YOU MADE HIS MEAL, BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD REPLACE HIM, BUT YOU CAN’T!”

“Wait - ”

“YOU’RE NOT HIM, YOU CAN NEVER BE HIM, AND YOU CAN’T MAKE ME HAPPY! YOU JUST - YOU JUST FUCKING CAN’T!”

“Yurio - ”

“DON’T EVEN FUCKING TRY! YOU CAN’T DO A DAMN THING TO MAKE ME HAPPY - NO ONE CAN! AND DON’T FUCKING _CALL_ ME THAT!”

He stormed out in a flurry of blonde waves and unshed tears, slamming the door behind him hard enough to rattle the whole building. The sudden silence stretched out like a void, freezing everything - the fallen pastries, the shell-shocked men - in place.

As the shock faded, Yuuri and Victor turned to each other.

“Shit - ”

“Go after him - ”

They both launched out of their chairs and charged out the door. They looked down the street in either direction, but Yuri was nowhere in sight. The night had swallowed him up.

“Shit.”

“You can say that again.”

“...shit.”

* * *

Yuri ran. He didn’t know where he was running, but he ran.

_Stupid asshole lovebirds - who do they think they are - making Gramps’ special recipe -_

His chest burned and his legs throbbed as they hit the ground again and again and again.

_Stupid pirozhki - reminding me of home - reminding me of him -_

His feet were carrying him somewhere; he knew this path, but he couldn’t think of where he was going. He just had to keep running. He had to get away, as far away as possible.

_Reminding me of what I’ve lost -_

It was Ice Castle. That’s where he was running to. He realized it when he saw the large, square building, lit only by sparse street lights, getting nearer.

He finally began to slow down. He collapsed onto the steps, curling his knees to his chest and hugging them close.

It was nearly pitch black. The rink had closed an hour ago. Yuri was completely alone.

_Don’t cry. Don’t cry don’t cry don’t -_

A car pulled up to the side of the road. Yuri warily got to his feet. If Victor or Yuuri had found him already, he would be so pissed -

Out of the car climbed a young man with an undercut and a stern expression.

“B-beka?!”

Otabek Altin smiled at him. “It’s nice to see you too, Yuri Plisetsky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hero of Kazakstan - coincidentally, also the hero of Yuri Plisetsky - has arrived. 
> 
> hope you enjoyed! i'll try and post the next (last?!) chapter as soon as i can!!


	4. Break the Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really, really, really wanted to finish this before yoi ended airing. alas, i have been sick. and distracted. but here, have this chapter - which is basically the end, but imma write an epilogue to tie things up.
> 
> also i should have read through it more...so if you see any mistakes...lemme know...

“What are you...doing here…”

Yuri couldn’t hide his shock. Otabek was here, in Japan, completely unannounced. His friend who he’d been avoiding for too long - had appeared right in front of him at the worst possible time.

Otabek handed his driver some money, then shuffled forward with his suitcase while the cab drove off. The warm light of a distant lamppost outlined him in glowing gold. He looked travel weary, in his black leather jacket and loose jeans, tired eyes drooping and shoulders hunched. Yet a smile danced on his lips as he looked at Yuri. “I told Victor and Yuuri I was here, but they haven’t called me yet, so I asked to be dropped off at the ice rink.”

“But why - ”

“You didn’t reply to my texts. I was worried about you.” He walked over to the stairs and sat down. Following his lead, Yuri stumbled down next to him, leaving a good two feet of space between them, and curled his knees up to his chest.

“You don’t need to be...” he mumbled.

“Obviously I do.” Otabek scooted closer to him, and looked him in the eye. Yuri turned away, unable to bring himself to look back. “Yuri, what are you doing out here alone? And don’t tell me you were just skating. You don’t have your gear with you.”

“I…”

 _I ran away from my problems again because I’m too fucking weak to face them_.

“...wanted some fresh air.”

Otabek didn’t press him further, even though his expression read _bullshit_. Instead he sat down in front of Yuri. He reached out, slowly, and unclasped Yuri’s hands from around his knees, taking them in his own. Yuri let Otabek’s large, warm hands wrap around his smaller, cold ones, too overwhelmed to protest. Besides, Otabek’s hands around his felt...grounding. Yuri realized this was the most amount of physical contact he had had since his arrival in Hasetsu.

“Yuri. What’s wrong?” Otabek asked.

Yuri scoffed, though there was no venom behind it. “You know what’s wrong.” He was sure Mila told him. Yuri was sure _everyone_ knew by now.

“No, I don’t,” Otabek insisted, squeezing his hands tight. Yuri inhaled sharply. _What’s he playing at?_ Otabek knew what was wrong, why was he pushing Yuri like this when he knew it would only hurt?

Yuri finally made himself looked at Otabek, look him in the eye as he laughed sarcastically. Tears prickled the corners of his eyes. “Yes you _do_. What’s wrong? You wanna know what’s wrong?!” he snarled, fingernails digging into Otabek’s skin. “My grandpa is _dead_. There. I said it. Isn’t that what you wanted? He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead he’s dead he’s dead - ”

“Yuri - ”

Yuri jumped to his feet, tearing his hands out of Otabek’s the moment tears began to fall out of his eyes. “ - he’s dead and I don’t know what to do! I’ve always had him by my side, always, and now he’s gone and I’m never going to see him again! I can’t - he was everything to me, Beka! He was there for me like no one else was, and I loved him! And now he’s gone. He’s gone and he left me alone, and I don’t know how to skate without him because I’ve never skated without him before - ”

Otabek rose to his feet but Yuri stepped away, kept talking and backing away. “ - and everyone treats me like glass! They think I’ll break at any second so they try to cheer me up with fake smiles and his fucking _pirozhkis_ and even when they keep their space I know they’re whispering about me, ‘oh poor little Yurio, he must feel so sad because his dead grandpa’ and I know they pity me, I can hear it in their voices and, and see it in their eyes, and I hate it, I hate how they think I can’t handle it, how I’m not tough enough - they think I need to be treated like a paper _doll_ and - and - ”

Snot dribbled on his lip and suddenly Yuri realized his face was wet, and he was trembling.

“But they’re right. I _am_ weak. I can’t do this - any of this - without him. And now I’m fucking crying like a weakling, like a baby, because they’re right. I’m just a paper doll that’s ripping apart. I can’t - I c-can’t even skate anymore. ”

Otabek took a hesitant step forward, and then another. Yuri let him come closer until Otabek wrapped him in a hug. Yuri slumped against him. He was too tired to run away.

“They’re trying to make me happy, but I don’t want to be happy, I can’t be happy without him,” Yuri muttered. “I can’t. I don’t - I don’t want to be…” He brought his arms up around Otabek and hugged him back.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Otabek said softly.

“Why…?” It’s hard for Yuri to admit to himself, but now that Otabek was seeing him like this...what was the point of trying to hide it? “Because - because I didn’t want to appear weak in front of you. You’re so strong, and you think I’m strong, but if you saw me like this - what would you think of me then?” He looked up at Otabek, tears clouding his eyes. “What do you think of me now?”

Otabek said, without hesitation, “I think you’re the strongest person I know.”

Yuri heaved a sob into Otabek’s chest, no doubt covering his leather jacket in snot and tears. “B-b-beka…”

“You are. That’s what I told you back then, right? Yuri Plisetsky has the unmistakable eyes of a soldier - a strong, powerful soldier. No one thinks you’re weak, Yuri. They never have. You’ve never had to prove that to anyone. You’ve worked yourself harder than anyone I know to do the unimaginable, the things only you can do. You’ve never backed down from a fight. And this, right now - this is you still fighting.”

It was the most Yuri had ever heard Otabek say at once, but it was what he said that really shook him. He tightened his hold around Otabek.

“You really think so?”

“I know so.”

 

_The hospital room is white, but there’s black grime in the corners, dust along the window sill, scuff marks on the tiles. An old man, white skin and salt and pepper hair that’s falling out in clumps, blends right in._

_The room is sickeningly familiar to Yuri. Since Worlds ended a week ago, he has spent every waking moment in this room, in a squeaky chair next to his dying grandpa._

_Yuri had known about the cancer for a while, but he didn’t expect the sudden turn of events. He didn’t expect it so soon._

_“Mila has gotten so tall,” Gramps says. His voice is rough and warbly and so much weaker than it used to be. “It was so kind of her to bring me flowers.”_

_They look at the small vase of white flowers by the window that match the room a little too well._

_“I’ll be taller than her one day,” Yuri assures. “Just wait and…”_

...see. _Gramps smiles grimly at the unspoken word. Gramps can’t wait and see - because he’s dying._

_Gramps reaches for Yuri with a quivering hand. He scoots closer to the bed, willing himself not to cry, and leans his face in. Gramps strokes his head._

_“Oh, Yurachka,” he says. His eyes, dry and yellowed, twinkle with the hint of tears. “You are surrounded by so many loving people. All those people at the rink care for you. All of your fans, too. And that boy, your friend from Kazakhstan - he’s good to you. I am so, so happy for you. It makes me feel better about...about…”_

Leaving me. You’re leaving me, _Yuri wants to say, but he can’t. If he speaks the sobs will come and they won’t stop._

_“It’s going to be okay, I promise. You’ll be fine without me, Yurachka.”_

_Yuri places his hand over Gramps’, holding it steady. “You think so?”_

_“I_ know _so.”_

 

_Later that night, Yuri received the news he’d been dreading all week. He stayed long enough for the funeral, and then flew off to Japan before his emotions could catch up to him._

 

“You can cry,” Otabek told him. “I won’t think of you any differently.”

So Yuri cried. He cried, and he cried, and he cried, and the tears didn’t stop coming for a long, long time, but it was okay, because Otabek said he wouldn’t think badly of him. So Otabek held him and he cried. He cried for his loneliness, for his weakness, for the loss of his passion, and he cried for Gramps. He cried for that whiskered smile, that booming voice that always yelled in support, for his petty, competitive ways, for his day trips with little-Yuri to the ice rink, for his pirozhki fresh out of the oven. He cried because he missed his Grandpa, and hadn’t shed a single tear until now.

And eventually he stopped crying. Yuri didn’t know how much time has passed - it felt like hours, days - but the droplets stopped flowing, the shivering slowed, and the tears dried against his cheeks. And Otabek was still there, wrapped around him like a warm blanket.

“Beka,” Yuri said eventually, throat hoarse. “I’m not weak for crying, right?”

“No.”

“And I’m not weak for...for missing him.”

“No.”

Yuri gulped.“...I can get through this. He would want me to.”

“Yes. He would.”

Those were the words he needed. He didn’t know he needed them until now, but now that he heard them...Yuri was grateful.

He sat up, letting Otabek’s arms fall to the side, but reached out and held Otabek’s hands tightly. “What do I do?” he asked.

Otabek considered this, and silence settled between them. The lamp nearest to them flickered. The nighttime breeze started to get chiller. Yuri scooted closer to Otabek.

Eventually, Otabek said, “Maybe you need an outlet.”

“An outlet?” Yuri asked with a frown. “Like, a shopping mall?”

Otabek smiled. “Not shopping, but I suppose we could do that, too. I meant a creative outlet, like skating, to deal with your grief.”

“Didn’t you hear? I can’t skate.” His eyes flickered to the rink behind him. Yuri dreaded thinking about having to go back, but he knew he would have to, eventually.

Otabek’s eyebrows furrowed, as he carefully contemplated his words. “You mean can’t skate the way Victor imagines...maybe you need to skate how _you_ feel.”

Yuri frowned. “What does that even mean.”

“You said Victor choreographed this program for you with the spirit of battle in mind, right?” Otabek asked.

Yuri nodded.

“That’s sounds more like the you of last year than the you right now.”

Yuri cocked his head and sniffed. “So?”

“So ask him to redo the program. Use new music, perhaps,” Otabek suggested.

New music. A new theme. Maybe, just maybe, that might work. A tune was already playing in Yuri’s ear. “Do you think...he’d let me pick the music…?”

Suddenly Otabek stood, pulling Yuri up with him. He was looking intently at something over Yuri’s shoulder. “There’s only one way to know,” he said.

Yuri spun around. There were Victor and Yuuri, running straight at them.

* * *

“Yurioooooo!” Victor and Yuuri shouted as they sprinted towards the two figures by the rink.

The blonde figure turned around. The moment he saw them, he started in the opposite direction, but the other figure held him back.

The got closer and closer until they threw themselves at Yuri, enveloping him in a giant hug.

“Oh my god, we’re so glad you’re safe - ”

“ - you had us so _worried_ \- ”

“ - sorry you didn’t like the pirozhki - ”

“ - looking for you for two hours - ”

“ - even know how _late_ it is - ”

“ - just happy you’re safe.”

“Get. OFF. ME!” Yuri shouted, finally ripping away from their grasp. Yuuri didn’t care. He was just so, so relieved to see Yuri in one piece. After running around Hasetsu with Victor, searching every nook and cranny, for nearly two hours, he was exhausted, but all his exhaustion had melted away the moment he had seen Yuri by the rink.

Yuuri finally calmed down enough to see who was with Yuri. That resting bitch face was unmistakable. “Otabek? What are you..?”

“I decided to come when Yuri wasn’t texting me back,” Otabek said neutrally. “I texted all three of you that I arrived in Japan. But no one replied.”

“Ah...sorry,” Yuuri said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s alright.”

Victor placed his hand on Otabek’s shoulder. “Thank you. For finding him.”

Otabek nodded.

For a moment, there was silence. Yuri backed away from them into Otabek’s chest, and Otabek wrapped his arm around Yuri’s shoulder. Yuuri noticed the puffy redness around his eyes, the tear stains on his cheeks. His heart broke all over again.

“We’re sorry,” Victor said, interrupting the silence.

Yuuri nodded in agreement. “We’re really, really sorry. We just wanted to help you. We never wanted to...to replace him...we know we could never do that.”

“We just want you to know that you can open up to us, okay?” Victor said.

Yuri looked up at them, with bloodshot eyes. “Okay,” he said. “I’m gonna open up to you then.”

“Oh. Okay, that’s good!” Yuuri wasn’t expecting it to be that easy -

“I can’t skate in Hot Springs on Ice.”

“Oh…” They should have seen that coming. They kind of suspected, anyway, but to hear Yuri say it was a little...disheartening. Not because of the event, but because that meant Yuri didn’t want to - maybe couldn’t - skate.

“Not to that shit program you made for me, Victor.”

Yuuri glanced at Victor, wondering how he would react. He meant the Borodin piece Victor had been so stumped by. Victor raised his eyebrows. “You’re saying...you want me to write you another one?”

“Yeah.”

“Fast enough so you can learn it before Hot Springs on Ice?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Victor said with a smile on his face. “I hated that one anyway.”

Yuri gave a stalwart nod. Otabek was smiling at him; the younger boy didn’t notice, but Yuuri did. “And this time...I wanna pick the music.”

“Okay,” Victor agreed.

Yuri’s eyes widened in surprise. “That’s - that’s really okay?”

Victor nodded. Otabek nudged him and whispered something in Yuri’s ear that sounded like _told you so._

Yuri nudged him back, almost cracking a smile, then turned back to Victor. “And I want...I want the theme to be different.”

“What do you want your theme to be, Yuri?” Victor asked.

Yuri took a deep breath, and looked down at his feet. “Grief. I can’t...I can’t bottle everything up anymore. I need to let it go. And I’d...I’d like to dedicate my short program to Gramps.”

Victor smiled. He reached out his hand, slowly, and rested it on Yuri’s shoulder. “Okay. I’ll do my best - for him.”

Yuri nodded. His eyes were watering again, but he looked...content. Yuuri wondered if it was anything to do with Otabek standing next to him, or something else entirely. Maybe both.

“Thank you,” Yuri mumbled, so quietly Yuuri almost couldn’t hear him.

Victor stepped closer and hugged him. This time, Yuri didn’t try to run away. Yuuri only waited for a few moments before joining in. He signaled for Otabek to join as well. They stood there, embracing each other, for a long time, simply content to be alive and together.

* * *

A few days later, Yuri watched as Victor showcased his new short program to the music Yuri had picked.

It was beautiful. Yuri was entranced by Victor’s movements, the languid movements of his body and the vulnerable expression of his face made it impossible to look away. It was sad, and it was beautiful, and looked as tricky as hell, but Yuri thought he could do it. Maybe even better than Victor himself.

“Well? How was that?” Victor said once the music cut off.

Yuri shook himself out of his trance and shrugged. “It’ll do, I guess.”

Victor saw right through him and laughed. “Shouldn’t have expected any higher praise from the Ice Tiger of Russia.”

Yuri had come to the rink every day since running away. With Otabek by his side, it wasn’t so hard. Otabek’s coach had luckily let Otabek stay in Hasetsu until Hot Springs on Ice was over, as long as he trained under Victor’s instruction. Otabek told Yuri he would have stayed anyways.

He spent the day working on the new program. It was hard to get into the rhythm of it.

“You haven’t skated in a week, Yurio,” Victor told him. “Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

He worked on his jumps, on learning the choreography. By the end of the day, his entire body was sore, his hair was coming out of its ponytail, and he was panting like a dog. But he felt better than he had in days. When he skated, he felt closer to Gramps. He was beginning to realize that maybe, that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

He went to go take off his skates. Otabek was waiting for him.

“Beka, I’m never not going to skate again,” Yuri told him, angrily taking off his skates. “I don’t understand how that katsudon recovered from nearly giving up on skating last year. This nearly impossible.”

“Nearly?” Otabek asked.

“Well obvious nothing’s impossible for me,” Yuri said, this time with true confidence. “That’s what...that’s what Gramps always said.”

“And he was right,” Otabek told him, taking a seat on the bench next to him.

Yuri wasn’t over Gramps’ death. He still missed him with every fiber of his being. But he wasn’t going to run away from his feelings anymore. He was going to embrace them - facing his feelings didn’t make him weak, it made him strong. He would embrace these emotions and channel them into his skating, into the best performance of his life. For Gramps.

And he still had people on his side, just like Gramps had wanted. He finally called Yakov back - that was a long conversation that involved a lot of yelling and crying, but, admittedly, could have gone worse. He let Mila and Ms. Baranovskaya know how he was doing. He apologized to Yuuko for almost ruining Hot Springs on Ice, and to the Katsukis for ignoring the invitations for dinner. He still hadn’t gone over there, but they didn’t begrudge him that. They told him to take his time, and they’d be there with katsudon whenever he was ready.

And he had Otabek. His friend hardly ever left his side in the time since his arrival. Knowing that Otabek would be with him for the next two weeks brought Yuri comfort, and excitement; he had never spent this long with Otabek in person before. He was sure it would be the beginning of a new chapter in their friendship.

“So,” Otabek said to him, bringing Yuri out of his thoughts. They stood up and walked out of Ice Castle. “Think you’ll be able to learn this program in two weeks?”

Yuri took Otabek’s hand and smiled. “I know so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey fun fact: the borodin piece that yuri didn't like? nathan chen, a 17 y/o from the US, actually [skated to it for the GPF this year for his FS](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wh5YmP3cwIg) and it was amazing! who would've thought??
> 
> wow why was this chapter so hard to write. i'm sorry if it turned out shitty, but i had a rough time with this. 
> 
> epilogue coming soon! hope you enjoyed thus far~


	5. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'the epilogue will be posted soon' said i. that was four months ago. oops.
> 
> i really did mean to finish this a while ago but then yoi ended (and it ended so much differently than this fi cIM SO MAD but not actually) and i got preoccupied with other stuff and. yeah. but seeing the unfinished sign on this fic was just too much for me since i knew i _only had one part left_ so i forced myself to finish it. you're welcome. i think. it's a poorly edited ending, but it's an ending.

It was a week before Hots Springs on Ice II, and Yuuri settled into bed with Victor after a long day of preparations. “Hey.”

Victor rolled over to face him. “Hello, beautiful.”

“I watched Yuri perform his routine today,” Yuuri said.

Victors eyebrows went up. “Oh?”

He’d been sneaking glances for the last week now, but he hadn’t seen Yuri try to perform the whole thing until today. Yuri hadn’t acknowledged his presence - he didn't think the boy noticed him at all. Or else he wouldn't have had that solemn, despondent expression on his face. If he knew Yuri was watching, he never would have looked so vulnerable, and broken. It tore at Yuuri's heart, but in his sadness there was something beautiful. Because, buried beneath his grief, was love.

As for the routine itself, and Yuri’s incredible performance, was stunningly somber. He understood now why Victor had been discontent with the other routine, when this one had been waiting to be born from the depths of his creativity. “Looks like you’ve got your inspiration back,” he said.

Victor smiled, nuzzling into his pillow. “You think so? Good. I think so, too.”

“So...what brought it back?”

Victor rolled onto his back, and looked pensively at the ceiling. “Hmm. A change in mood. I’ve been trying to create a routine that’s happy, and strong, and powerful. It’s what I thought Ice Castle needed right now, but that’s not what any of us are feeling right now. Mourning, grief...I completely neglected an entire realm of emotions to capture, when that was what Yurio needed to express the whole time.” He stretched his arms up and folded them behind his head. “I haven’t abandoned the Borodin. I’ll come back to it when it’s time. Now’s just not that time. Sometimes a piece needs to sit and simmer for it to become genius. For now, I needed something different. And Yuri Plisetsky gave me exactly that. ”

Yuuri poked his husband on the nose. “You’re good for him, you know that?”

Victor shrugged. “I try.”

“And he’s good for you.”

“I know. He’s good for both of us.”

“We’re lucky to have him,” Yuuri agreed. He snuggled deeper in the covers, ready for a good night's sleep. “Now, who’s going to get up and turn out the lights?”

“Yuuri, don’t make me get up!” Victor whined.

“Well I just laid down. There’s no way I’m getting up now.”

“...fine. But only because I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

* * *

The day of Hot Springs on Ice II came upon them faster than Yuri expected. He’d barely had time to learn his routine, let alone master it. But today was just an exhibition. He still had time to improve before competitions.

Not that that would prevent him from destroying other Yuuri today.

After warming up in the rink that morning, he changed into his costume. Now he waited in the locker room with Yuuri and Otabek while the crowd filed into the rink. Yuri could hear the commotion loud and clear from in here.

“Sounds like we drew quite a crowd,” Yuuri said.

Otabek nodded. “That will be good for business.”

“Yeah," Yuri agreed. He turned to Yuuri. "All the more people to see me crush you.”

Yuuri smirked. Fucking _smirked_. “We’ll see about that.”

Yuri fumed. Just because he got one goddamn medal, Yuuri thought he was better than him? _Just you wait, katsudon._

He noticed a flash of pink out of the corner of his eye. It was Yuuko, running down the hallway past the locker room. She’d been so busy trying to set up this event, he’d hardly seen her this past week. And he had unfinished business with her.

He ran out into the hallway after her.

“Yuuko, wait - ”

He grabbed Yuuko’s hand before she got too far. She turned around, eyes wide. “What is it Yurio? Is something wrong?”

Yuri gulped. Now that he had her attention, he realized he didn’t know what to say. “I - ah - I know you’re busy, but,” he stammered, “I just wanted to say, uh...ssss. Sorry. I shouldn’t have acted like I did. And I put this event in jeopardy, even though I knew how important it was. So, uh. I apologize, for causing you trouble, I guess.”

He braved a glance at her. To his surprise, she was smiling at him with watery eyes, hands over her chest. “Yuri...that’s so mature of you! I’m so proud of you! You sound like an adult!”

“I - I am an adult! I'm sixteen!”

Before he could protest, she wrapped him in a hug. “Thank you for telling me, but you have nothing to apologize for. I can’t imagine what you were going through, and I’d never want you to sacrifice your mental health trying to do a favor for me.”

She let go of him, and pat him on the shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re doing better now,” she said.

“...thanks.”

She smiled at him again, and thumped him on the arm, hard enough to be painful. “Now go out there and kick butt!”

Trying not to wince, he assured her, “You bet I will.”

She took off, busy running the rink, and Yuri headed back to the locker room. It was no longer only Yuuri and Otabek, though.

There, waiting for him, were Yakov, Mila, and Georgi.

Yuri stopped in his tracks. “Guys…”

“Yura!”

They ran over and envelope him in hugs. “H-hey - ”

He wanted to push them off, but he thought maybe, just this one time, he would let it slide.

Once they finally decided to get off of him - oh god did they mess up his outfit, or worse, his hair? - Yuri took a step back and looked at them.

Suddenly Mila slapped him on the arm.

“Oi - what the hell was that for?!”

“For making me worry!” She hugged him one more time. “It’s good to see you again, dweeb,” she teased.

“Yeah, yeah, good to see you too, hag.” He pushed her off. “What are you all doing here?” he asked.

“We came to see you, of course!” Georgi said.

“We weren’t going to miss this a second time,” Mila said.

Yakov grunted. “I just wanted to make sure Victor’s training you properly. I’ll kick his ass if he’s not.”

Yuri let himself smile. He didn’t think he’d be as happy to see them as he was. But seeing them here felt like a bit of home came to visit him. “Thanks for coming…”

Yuuko popped her head in the doorway. “You ready, Yuri? You’re almost up!”

Yuri nodded.

“Go on out there,” Yakov said. “We’ll be watching.”

“And cheering for you!”

“Go beat that Japanese Yuuri!”

Yuri smiled for them. “You bet I will.”

 

He skated out into the rink with his head held high. Then he stopped in the middle, and let his whole body droop.

_This is for you, Gramps._

The [music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ts7FQaVULRs) began, and Yuri skates with his heart on his sleeve.

* * *

He and Otabek headed home a few days later. The other Russians had returned once Hot Springs on Ice II had ended. Yakov didn’t want his ‘good students’ to miss a day of training.

“I expect you back in Russia tomorrow, Yura,” Yakov had demanded before he left. “Mrs. Baranovskaya is not a patient woman...I should know.”

Yuri gulped. He knew very well that he was in for a hell of a work-out when he got back. Yet, as much as he dreaded it, it wasn’t as terrifying as going back home alone.

They wait for their cab outside the Katsuki residence. While they wait, the Katsuki couple fawned over them.

Victor knelt down in front of him. He clasped his hands around Yuri’s. “Yuri, we'll always have your back. We may be rivals on the ice, but any other time - we’re here for you. Understand?”

Yuri rolled his eyes, but nodded. “Yeah, yeah, and all that sappy stuff, I get it.”

He stood up and smiled contently. “Good. Now be sure to never make us worry like that again.”

Yuri scoffed. “Like hell I’m promising that.”

The cab pulled up in front of them, and they loaded their luggage in the trunk. Right before he got into the car, he turned around and pointed at Yuuri.

“I’m gonna destroy you next season, katsudon.”

His rival smiled. “Good luck trying.”

“Yes, you’ll both need luck trying to beat me.”

They both turned towards Otabek, who wore a frown. “I’ve been working just as hard as you two. Don’t forget about me.”

Yuuri smiles at him. “Make it memorable, and we won’t.”

They said their final goodbyes, and then the cab left, and dropped them off at the airport, and it was just him and Otabek. Once Otabek boarded his plane to Kazakhstan, it would just be him. Alone.

He waited with Otabek at his terminal. “Are you ready to go back?” Otabek asked him.

_Of course I am,_ he wanted to say. But he didn't, because that wasn't the truth. He didn't have to pretend to be something he wasn't not - not around Otabek. “Not really,” he admitted.

“I’m not really ready to go back either,” Otabek said. He looked down at his hands, fiddling between his knees. “I enjoyed training with you, Yuri.”

Yuri fought a blush. “I, uh, enjoyed training with you, too.”

The minutes ticked by. Otabek’s departure grew closer and closer. There was one more thing he had to say, one more thank you in order.

“Th-thank you for coming to check up on me!” Yuri burst. Otabek glanced at him, eyebrows raised. Yuri looked away. “I know I was being kind of...moody...You didn’t have to come. But I, uh, I’m glad you did. You really...I wouldn't be where I am without you.”

When he looked back at his friend, he was smiling, teeth and all. “Of course. That’s what friends do, right?”

Yuri managed to smile back. “Right.”

Otabek just kept smiling. He scratched the back of his neck nervously. “My flight boards in two minutes. Before I have to go, do you want to take a picture together? For your Instagram?”

Yuri lit up. “Can we!? That’s a great idea!”

He got his phone, and held it out to take a picture. He had to lean in close to Otabek to make sure they both fit. They both looked at the camera, expressionless, Yuri holding up a peace sign. He snapped the picture.

It came out perfect. Yuri held the phone close to his face, marveling at the picture. “Wow, we looks so badass.”

Otabek laughed. “If that’s what you want to call it, sure.”

Yuri growled and jabbed Otabek in the side, but his friend still smiled.

He posted the picture and captioned it: _parting ways with a friend._

Not a moment later, the flight attendant called for Otabek’s flight to board.

Otabek sighed. “I guess I should go now.”

Standing across from him like this, Yuri could see how much he’d grown. He was still shorter than Otabek, but now, their faces were nearly level. He could clearly look into Otabek’s eyes, and see how deep the rich brown went.

Maybe not all change was bad. Because now, it was easy to reach up and kiss Otabek on the cheek.

“H-have a safe flight,” he said before turning around and practically running in the other direction. “See you at the Grand Prix Series!”

Yuri had been right, thinking that training together would lead to a new chapter in their friendship. He hoped Otabek felt it, too. (If Otabek’s blush was anything to go by, he did.)

His trip to Hasetsu was an impulsive decision made during an emotional crisis. But it turned out that this was exactly what he needed. The change of environment reminded him of what he left behind him, and the people reminded him of what he has ahead of him. He thought of Yuuri and Victor and all their family in Hasetsu, who supported him even when he was acting like he was. He thought of Mila and Georgi and Yakov, and all the other skaters waiting at the rink in Saint Petersburg. He thought of Otabek, on his own flight back home. He thought of Gramps, watching down on him from a higher plane.

Even though he rides home by himself, he doesn’t feel so alone anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank y'all so much for reading and sticking with me!!! hope you enjoyed!! thank you especially to all the people that left comments and kudos - you're what kept me going until the end!!

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! comments and kudos always appreciated! 
> 
> come talk to me about yoi on my [tumblr!](http://satyr-syd.tumblr.com/)


End file.
